16th PÖFF: House with a Turret review

Will it ever end... 

Eva Neymann`s nostalgic, shot in splendid black and white, second feature „House with a Turret“ has achieved a momentum in looking back in to the classical Russian cinema aesthetics through the eyes of a child at the end of World War II in Russia. 

Review by Ra Ragnar Novod

As the winner of Grand Prix at the 16th Black Nights Film Festival in Tallinn „House with a Turret“ shows us the true height of Ukrainan cinema presented by second time director Eva Neymann and the co-writer of Andrei Tarkovsky`s „Solaris“ Friedrich Gorenstein. This „war movie“ is told through the eyes of a child returning home with his sick mother and explores the other side of what it means to be a casualty of war. Based on Gorenstein`s autobiographical novel, Neymann has created naturally a very personal story of people returning to their mostly destroyed homes and how one cataclysmic event can change not only people, but also the way they see life.

The war is ending

The story itself is simple. Among thousands of others an 8-year-old boy is on the road towards what used to be their home with his sick mother. Suddenly mother is no more and now orphaned boy is left alone in an unknown destroyed town. No-one is willing to help. Nobody cares. Everybody needs help. Some more than others, but all what is missing, is a willing heart. Their hearts are broken, teared town and abused. There is no room for compassion or empathy. Snow covered and seemingly peaceful scenery is powerfully contrasted with the static and numb residents and the ones who are just passerbyers hoping their homes are better off. 

Through the eyes of a raven 

"House with a Turret“ re-creates the motifs of classical Russian cinema like the works of legendary film-maker Andrei Tarkovsky and even Eisenstein`s understanding of montage. Long shots full of depth are standing still, but are always moving inside. The shots are pieced together with only what the young boy sees. The slow pacing and sharp framework create a restless mood among the casualties of war. The stoic, peaceful landscapes covered by always falling snow grasp the attention as a symbol trying to clense this land of hopelessness. As the boy reaches the train heading home with his new „family“ he is captured by the need and greed of other passengers. 

As the story progresses documentary and visual poetry blend together to give a glimpse of how times long ago are still affecting the way we see history and ourselves. Documenting the mentality of people suffering from loss and grief comes together with the Lithuanian cinematographer`s Rimvydas Leipus still frames and Neymann`s quiet shots. Poetry decouples from reality by presenting shots of lonely old woman selling fresh fish on a snow covered square with no fresh footprints or repetative actions by a small child playing tea party alone on the snowy stairs of an destroyed building.

The way black colours play out like complete darkness and white as sunshine never seen. The visuals summon the feeling of guilt for mankind unwilling to help others in need. But there is light, eventually all is covered in snow and the ones willing are blossoming. Spring is near...